After the two ah-pohs leave, Mama reaches inside her shirt into the hidden pocket where she usually keeps her keys and pulls out something. She hands it to me. “Here’s your passport. I found it in Papa’s safe,” she says in Hakka.
I finger the little book, my key to Canada’s door. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Your papa wants to see you when you get better.”
I look at Daniel and tighten my grip on his arm. He does not understand the conversation, but he squeezes my hand. Then I let my gaze fall on Mama. “Did Papa ask you to return my passport?”
Mama shakes her head. “I will tell him later.”
I know how much courage it takes for Mama to go against Papa’s wishes. “Has he said anything about what happened on the roof the other night?” I ask.
“Your papa just got out of his second surgery yesterday afternoon. He hardly spoke a few words. So, what did happen when you found him on the roof?”
I lie. “Papa was already badly hurt when I found him. He was conscious and said he fought with one of the robbers.”
I wonder if Mama knows about Papa’s confrontation with Rajesh and Lee-Lan before she died. I keep my expression blank and push away the memory of the exchange on the roof between Papa and Mohan.
Shane asks, “Did Papa recognize his attacker? It would help the police.”
His gaze disconcerts me. I look away. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask him.”
“All right, enough of this. Let’s leave Jie-Lan to rest.” Mama ushers the two boys out of the room.
When the door closes on them, Daniel tightens his arms around me. “What are you holding back?” he whispers in my ear.
I shake my head.
Later Dr Mitra comes and pronounces me recovering. Deepa comes to visit.
Attached to various tubes, papa looks frail lying on the bed, his breathing shallow. It’s the first time I’ve seen him thus. He has his own room in this private hospital. Mama used to tell me that when she gave birth to us, they could only afford the public hospital, where she was assigned to a general ward if she was lucky. She had floor space in the corridor near the toilets when she was in labour with me.
A nurse, in her white dress and cap adjusts the glucose bag as Mama and I tread quietly to either side of the bed. She looks up with a smile. “Mrs Wu, your husband is recovering very nicely,” she says in English with a slight British accent.
Papa’s eyelids quiver. He grunts and lifts a feeble hand. The nurse asks. “Mr Wu, would you like to sit up?”
He mouths the word, “Yes.”
The nurse props Papa’s head up and leaves us, with a smile.
Mama begins to hover over Papa, adjusting his covers. He waves an arm impatiently. “Sit,” he says in a testy voice.
I put the thermos we brought on top of the locker by the bed. Ah-Poh cooked chicken broth with herbal roots to revive Papa’s energy.
“Jie-Lan, sit, sit. Let us talk,” Papa says. “Are you feeling better now?”
“I’m fine, Papa.” I turn to face Mama, unable to hold the intensity of his stare. I cannot dismiss the image of Lee-Lan lying dead on the ground. In my mind I hear again the exchange between Mohan and Papa on the roof—the bane of my tortured dreams every night since I found out Papa’s role in her death.
“Come closer.” Papa raises a hand to beckon.
I pull my chair close enough for him to touch me.
“I owe my life to you,” he says, holding my gaze.
“I’m just glad I found you in time,” I tell him. Has he told Mama what transpired on the roof?
She says, “I don’t want to think about what would have happened had Jie-Lan not decided to go upstairs. Chin-Shen, what made you go to the roof?”
A shadow passes over his eyes. “One of the thugs was chasing me with a gun. I banged on our door, it didn’t open, I ran up to the roof. Once I got there, I fought with him, but he had a knife and he was too strong for me. He ran away when he heard Jie-Lan coming, probably he thought he would be overpowered by whoever was coming to help me.”
I look down at Papa’s hand and the tube taped to his wrist, watching the clear liquid with exaggerated interest—if Mama sees my expression, she might see emotions I cannot mask. She says, “Let’s not talk about this anymore. It upsets me just thinking about what could have happened.” She smiles at me. “We finally met Jie-Lan’s fiancé. Daniel is such a charming man. He arrived on Friday.”
Papa’s face closes like a door slammed shut. “Oh, really?” His voice sounds cold. “Did Sunny and Mrs Chen visit?”
“Oh, they did. They came by soon after that dreadful night. I told them we weren’t prepared to talk about the engagement anymore, since you were in the hospital fighting for your life. And with Daniel arriving the next day, we thought it best to stop this marriage business with Sunny. Now that we’ve met Daniel, I think Jie-Lan has made the right choice.”
My heart soars to hear Mama speak this way. I turn to look at Papa. His eyes have a strange glint.
“My children will never marry a fankwei while I’m alive,” he says with a finality.
Goosebumps rise on my arms; a rage comes over me. I try to inhale deeply to steady myself. “You can’t stop me from marrying Daniel anymore,” I say in a tight voice I can hardly recognize as my own.
“You have all gone crazy. How can you lose your Chinese-ness? How can I show my face in the Hakka community? You should have let Mohan kill me and then I wouldn’t have to suffer this disgrace.”
I cannot believe my ears. Mama’s brow wrinkles, and she glances at me with a bewildered frown.
“I put myself in harm’s way to save you because that is what a good daughter does. I have tried to live by your rules even when I was dying inside because of them. I will not do that anymore.”
“You will leave my house, you . . . you slut.” His eyes bulge out and he yanks his oxygen tube away.
Mama grabs the tube and tries to place it back. “Stop this, both of you. What has come over you?”
Something inside me has snapped. A small voice in my head cautions me, but I am past caring. All the pain of the past few years caused me by this man—my father—explodes in an eruption in my head. Biology connects us, tradition and societal rules bind us. But what kind of society imposes such restrictions on their daughters?
I push my chair back violently, letting it fall to the floor. “You may be my father, but that gives you no right to call me a slut. If obeying you and becoming the wife of a man who only cared for men is being a slut, then I’m guilty. You, my papa, are supposed to be my protector, but you sold me for your honour. You didn’t care that Peter and I were not husband and wife in the real sense. You didn’t care that he sexually assaulted me, because as a woman, I am supposed to exist for my husband’s pleasure. You didn’t even care that he punched and hit me. Well, it ends now.” My entire body trembles, my legs seem unable to support me.
A vein on Papa’s forehead throbs, as he splurts out, “You and Lee-Lan . . . both of you . . . the same. Why are Chinese men not good enough for you?”
“So you want to kill me too like you did Lee-Lan?” I shout. Too late I realize that I’ve blurted out what I’d vowed to keep secret unless Papa himself disclosed it.
I cover my mouth with the back of my hand. My heart sinks as I watch Mama’s jaws drop and her fingers fly to her lips. Horror shines through her eyes. All the wind has been knocked out of me, my rage dissipates, leaving a cold feeling of regret.
Papa’s head slumps and he turns into an old man before my eyes. “I’ve explained to you that it was an accident,” he whispers.
Mama’s eyes turn cold and her lips clamp into a thin straight line. She shifts her gaze toward Papa and gives him a withering stare. “I always suspected there was more to her death than what I wa
s told.” I have never heard this icy bite in her voice before. “Jie-Lan, leave us please.”
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, not sure who I’m apologizing to. I dash for the door.
“What happened to you?” Daniel takes my cold hands and rubs them, forcing some colour back into my palms. He had been waiting for us in the sitting room at the end of the corridor. I’d suggested that we not bring him to meet Papa until we had prepared him.
My teeth are chattering. “Papa and I had an argument . . . I wish I hadn’t said all those mean things, even if they were all true . . . what with his weak condition right now . . . ”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Daniel rubs my back gently. As my body relaxes and the tremors cease, I break away from him and pace the floor. Daniel returns to his seat on the couch. He invites me to sit beside him, but I’m too worked up to stay still.
Mama has been a long time in Papa’s room. I wonder what’s going on. Dare I go back and find out? I wring my hands and stare at the wall. What have I done? What if he has a heart attack because of me?
“Jie-Lan.”
I whip around to face Mama. At the sight of her grim face, I breathe in sharply. “Mama, I’m so sorry about what I said—”
“Stop, don’t be sorry. I should be the one to say sorry for letting you suffer all this time. If I’d been a good mama to you, I wouldn’t have let it happen—”
“But, Mama, I was wrong to be so disrespectful.”
“Enough. I have allowed your papa to run our lives all these years because of what he endured when he was imprisoned. I thought I would be a good and dutiful wife, but in the process I forgot how to be a good mother. You and your brothers will never have to worry about your papa interfering with who you marry. We have come to an understanding,” she says with a tremor.
I throw my arms around her neck. “Oh, Mama,” I sob.
Her body stiffens at the unfamiliar closeness, but I cling to her. Soon her shoulders relax and then she hugs me back. I glance at Daniel and loosen my hold on Mama. I beckon him to join us. With a sheepish grin, he saunters over. His arms circle Mama and me in a wide embrace.
The lights twinkle below me like sparklers about to fizzle out. Calcutta, one of the most populous cities in the world, is a mere glimmer as the clouds slowly swallow the airplane. My eyes focus on the yellow glowing dots until they disappear. A sadness sweeps over me—the sweet sorrow of parting. I have left my family behind once again. This time, I am not alone as I travel homeward bound. The love of my life sits beside me.
I sigh and rest my head on Daniel’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong, babe?” He puts his arm around my neck and draws me close.
“I wish we could stay like this forever.” I snuggle closer to him.
He laughs and caresses my arm. “Now that would pose many problems. Imagine flying in an airplane for the rest of our lives.”
“I don’t care where we are, as long as we’re together.”
He lifts my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “No regrets about leaving?”
I gaze into his eyes. “Regrets, yes, but not about us. I feel sorry that I wasn’t able to reconcile with Papa. He can’t see past his ego and his pigheadedness. I am not happy about that, but I’m glad that I stood up to him and let him know that he can’t bully me anymore.”
“If I could wave a magic wand, I would wish for your father to change his mind about us. Let’s be happy the others are all on our side. Speaking of Ah-Poh . . . her birthday banquet was quite the event.”
“Papa may be many things, but he’s a man of his word. Although he’s bed-ridden, he still celebrated his mother’s seventy-first birthday as he promised. Did you see how proud Ah-Poh was when she walked around, greeting and mingling with the guests?”
I look out the porthole and think about what I’ve left behind—and what I’ve gained—my freedom.
“Mama has gained strength while Papa has lost his. She has taken charge of the family and the business. Now he has to depend on her to tend to him. He is a shadow of his former self, he continues to cling to his brand of Chinese-ness.”
But I am moving on . . . I have moved on. For so long I sought Papa’s approval like one obsessed, chiseling away at his stony obstinacy. It had turned out to be a mountain. Now I have walked around it. Papa’s approval doesn’t matter anymore.
Picture Bride
c fong hsiung
Picture Bride Page 17
